Altruism
by The Teeta Monster
Summary: "I just came to tell you… I think… I think I've found a way to get Al's body back." "Fullmetal… That's… that's wonderful." "Yes. Yes, it is." Parental!Royed Warnings for touchy subjects. This is the longest one-shot in the history of the world.


**Greetings, chillun! **

**This plot Bunnicula has been hopping around my brain and draining my attention for the past three months. **

**It was supposed to be done awhile ago, but I started my new job at a school for severely disabled children and I have learned something very important. **

**Apparently there is a strain of parvovirus (the disease that kills dogs and puppies have to get, like, three different shots for it) that infects humans. And while it's not deadly in people, it makes you wish it was. **

**And before all of that, Ah gaht brahnchitis (back in June). **

**Ain't nobody gaht tahm fo dat! **

**On the bright side, being horribly sick for so long has given me a lot of inspiration for future fics! **

**yIpPeEeEeEeE!1! **

**P.S. **

**This is the world's longest one-shot. **

**It is 45 pages long (although that's in 14 font because I have the eyesight of a turtle, but still). **

**If you're reading this during your lunch break or between classes or whatever, you might want to save it for when you have more time to kill. Like, between 1 and 3 hours. **

**Warnings for touchy subjects and eggs and bacon.**

* * *

It was obvious in hindsight.

Roy often felt embarrassed looking back, at the signs that had been shoved in his face, the alarms ringing loudly enough to hurt the senses.

He had been in his office, reading documents and signing forms, pausing every few minutes from his quickly cooling coffee, when Lieutenant Hawkeye poked her head into the room and announced in a surprised voice that Fullmetal had come to see him.

Mustang had been equally surprised by this. Edward Elric never came of his own volition to Roy Mustang's office. He often had to be coaxed and cajoled to the point of a migraine for both parties before he would roll out of his military-issued bed and showed up to turn in his damn report.

Roy steeled himself, expecting the boy to have come in to complain about some mundane issue that would be considered a luxury by others of Ed's background, and bade Hawkeye let him in.

Fullmetal looked tired.

The dark spots beneath his eyes looked like bruises and his hair was unbrushed, his clothes ruffled as if he'd slept in them, though Roy doubted he'd slept. Quite the contrary, he looked like he'd been up all night staring at a wall – or, more likely, tiny print in a large book.

"This is a surprise, Fullmetal. Is there a reason why you've interrupted my schedule by arriving without an appointment?"

Roy hadn't actually been doing anything of incredible importance; if he had been, he wouldn't have been doing paperwork. Mustang knew it and Edward knew it, but Roy's point still stood.

Ed shuffled his feet and raised his flesh hand behind his head, not scratching his scalp but simply letting his palm rest over his hair as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"I just came to tell you…" He lowered his hand and swallowed, appearing to lose himself in thought for a moment, then remembered. "I think… I think I've found a way to get Al's body back."

Mustang had not been expecting _this_.

"Fullmetal…" Roy sat up straighter, suddenly feeling oddly underdressed in his work clothes, as if this news ought to have been delivered during a formal celebration. "That's… that's wonderful."

He meant it. Though he had never explicitly stated it, he had always hoped the Elric brothers would succeed in their journey and vowed to support them however he could.

He realized that that may be why Edward had come to him that morning.

"Do you need assistance? I can get you any supplies you need, some personnel to stand by in case of… I guarantee you; they won't talk –"

"No, no, that's okay. Thank you, though."

Roy was doubly taken aback. Edward never thanked anyone, let alone him.

"I just… wanted you to know."

Roy blinked, unsure of what to say, of what he _should _say. He shuffled the papers on his desk, more for the sake of giving his hands something to do rather than to actually straighten the documents.

"Well… congratulations, Fullmetal. This is… amazing news!"

"Yes." Edward smiled, and yet the smile somehow made him look more tired than before. "Yes, it is."

There was a quiet pause.

Then Edward seemed to come awake again with a jolt and glanced at the clock on the office wall.

"I should… get back to Al." He turned to go.

"Congratulations again, Fullmetal. And if you ever need it, my offer of assistance still stands."

Edward nodded, though all Roy could see was the back of his head. He stopped at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, and turned back to face his commanding officer.

"And… could you not say anything about this to anyone? Including Al? I want it to be surprise."

A worm of suspicion dug its way into Roy's stomach, but he pushed it away, chalking it up to his soldier's paranoia.

"Okay… are you sure that's a good idea?"

Ed nodded emphatically.

"I know what I'm doing."

Roy chose to accept it.

"All right, then."

And the boy left and Mustang's day went on per usual.

XXX

Of course, he told Riza,

Her face lit up so warmly at the news that Roy was surprised by how pleased she was for the brothers.

"That's wonderful, sir! Does the team know? We should organize a celebration –"

Roy stopped her there.

"Fullmetal has asked that I keep it a secret from everyone, including his brother. He wishes for the reveal to be a surprise."

In response to this, Hawkeye's expression immediately changed to disapproving at the fact that Roy telling her the information he had promised Ed he would keep secret meant that he had broken his promise, but it quickly returned to brightness, albeit a bit dampened by confusion.

"Well… that's a bit odd, but… we should support him however they need us. They've worked terribly hard for this, after all."

"Yes," he agreed, finishing off the last of his now cold coffee. "We should."

XXX

Maes was next to hear the news.

He had come to East City that week on request of Roy. There had been a series of break ins on rock shops – not jewelry shops, simple rock shops, the kind that catered to collectors and enthusiasts. While most found it highly unnecessary, Roy feared there was something more nefarious afoot than someone's unruly child causing mischief, and so had called in the best investigator he knew – that being the head of the Investigations Department.

That, and he wanted an excuse to share a few beers with his best friend while off duty.

Hughes was just as surprised as Hawkeye and Mustang when the secretary announced that the Fullmetal Alchemist wished to speak with him. He quickly gave the woman permission to let him in.

"The Elrics are always welcome to see me. Send him in."

Hughes was worried the moment the boy stepped into the room.

Edward looked ill.

His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were pale, as if he was suffering from a cold.

"Hello, Edward. This is a surprise. Is there something I can help you with?"

Ed blinked. He seemed surprised that Maes would offer him help. Then he shook himself, like he thought he could shake his illness off his shoulders like rainwater.

"Um… no, that's okay. Actually, I was thinking… Did Mustang tell you?"

Hughes thought back to the last thing Roy had said to him regarding Edward. He doubted Ed was asking after the fact that Roy thought he was an arrogant brat who needed someone to throw him over his knee and give him a proper beating.

"No, I don't believe he did."

Ed smiled softly, something he rarely did when thinking of Roy. The kid was definitely under the weather.

"He didn't? Good. I guess he's not a bastard all the time."

Neither of them spoke, creating a silence that quickly became awkward.

Hughes cleared his throat and Ed jumped and shook himself again.

"Oh… um… what I came to tell you is… I think I've found a way to get Al back to normal." Ed wasn't sure how much Hughes knew about his and his brother's condition, so he chose his vocabulary carefully.

Perhaps he was a bit too careful, because he hadn't expected Hughes to come up to him and wrap his arms around him.

It took Edward an embarrassingly long moment to realize that Mr. Hughes was hugging him.

Maes let go of him and held the boy at arm's length; his eyes, always twinkling with love for his family, were twinkling with happiness for his young friend.

"Oh, Ed… That's wonderful! Congratulations! Gracia and Elicia will be thrilled when I tell them –"

"Actually –"

Hughes paused; his head tilted confusedly. "What is it, Ed?"

Edward looked away, shifting his feet nervously.

"I was wondering if you could keep this a secret. From everyone. Even Al. I kind of wanted it to be a surprise."

Maes felt the same worm of worry that had visited Roy crawl into his stomach. Unlike Roy, Maes had the initiative to act on it.

"Don't you think this is a bit of a big thing to be keeping from your brother? Especially since it so greatly concerns him…"

Hughes saw panic flit across Ed's face and the worm in his stomach dug deeper.

"I'm going to tell Al. I have to. It's just… we've been working for this for so long… I just want to tell him when it feels right, you know?"

Hughes nodded, beginning to understand.

"I see. Just like when Gracia found out she was pregnant with our little girl. She planned that evening perfectly: the perfect lighting, the perfect flowers, even the perfect –"

Edward's pale face quickly turned pink and he mumbled about needing to get back to Al.

Without missing a beat, Hughes jumped on board Ed's train of thought.

"Yes, yes, I can imagine you have an incredible amount of work to do… I just have a quick question."

Panic danced across Edward's face again, but he stifled it just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Um… okay."

"If this is supposed to be a secret to everyone, why are you telling _me _of all people?"

Edward swallowed. He'd forgotten Mr. Hughes hadn't been made the head of the Investigations Department for nothing.

"Um… well… I don't know what kind of condition Al will be in after the… uh… so in case we – _he _needs help, I thought maybe I could ask you if you could maybe…"

Ed didn't need to properly say what he was trying to say to know what he was trying to say.

The worm of worry was drowned in Hughes's melting heart.

"Oh, Ed… I'm honored. Of course, I'll provide any help I can."

Edward's smile seemed to turn watery.

"Thank you. Really."

He fell silent, trying to think of something else to say, then gave it up and turned to the door. He reached out to open the door, stopped, and whirled around.

"Al likes his toast with lots of butter and he doesn't mind the crust as long as it's not too burnt, and he says he likes cats but he really loves all animals so you have to make sure he doesn't get bit from trying to pet something, and he likes to spread his arms out when he sleeps so he'll need a big bed but he doesn't mind sharing –"

Maes stood, flabbergasted, information being loaded onto him faster than he could process it. He came back to his senses with a shake and saw that Ed's yellow eyes were glazed. He continued rambling without realizing that he was.

"– he likes everything all neat and ordered, he thinks everything has a place so don't get mad if he tries to start cleaning stuff up when it doesn't actually need to be, he also likes being independent but doesn't like being alone so sometimes he gets stuck between listening and being told what to do –"

"Edward –"

"He's nice to everyone, even the guys who aren't, so you gotta make sure he doesn't get taken advantage of, because even if he does, he doesn't get upset because he thinks they're just sad and don't know what to do about it –"

"Edward –"

"He likes kids, he's always liked kids, he told me when he was little that he always wanted a little sister so maybe he and Elicia could –"

"Edward!"

Ed's jaw snapped shut harder than if Hughes had reached out and smashed his mouth closed. He stared at nothing, shaking with some pent-up energy that Maes couldn't identify, then blinked and horror bloomed across his face like he'd realized he'd been caught naked in public. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself and started stumbling backwards towards the door,

"I – I have to go. Al's waiting for me."

"Edward, wait."

Hughes caught ahold of the boy's arm and pulled him back enough to grasp both of his shoulders.

"Edward… Is everything all right?"

The horror morphed into panic and then into the fakest grin Maes had ever seen.

"Yeah! Everything's great! I'm about to get my brother back to normal, why wouldn't it be?"

Every instinct in Hughes screamed to grab the little alchemist and transport him away to a place where he would be safe from whatever seemed to be threatening him, but whatever that was Edward did not want to tell him and Maes respected the privacy of his friends first and foremost.

So, he made a compromise.

He let is hands slide from Ed's shoulders with a nod of acceptance that was as artificial as the boy's smile.

"All right. Well, congratulations again. And Ed…"

Edward stopped in the middles of turning the doorknob but did not turn around.

"Please tell me if you need anything."

Ed showed no sign that he had heard, simply slipped out of the office and closed the door behind him.

Maes went to find Roy.

XXX

"Oh, there you are, Brother! I was starting to worry."

Ed entered the military dorm he and his brother normally stayed in and kicked off his boots, which was tricky considering they came up to his ankles.

"Hey, Al," he greeted, shrugging his coat off and dropping it on the floor as he always did. Alphonse made no sound of protest, simply went to the threshold and straightened his brother's shoes and hung his coat on the rack.

"How did your errands go?"

"Fine."

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Oh! Well, I got bored and picked up some steaks at the market and tried roasting them. I read in a book that they go great with breading and rosemary so I got that too but once it was done I couldn't… well, I left the oven on low and kept them in to keep them warm for you."

Edward gave his brother a quiet smile and patted his arm in gratitude.

"Thanks, Al."

Alphonse fetched his brother's dinner eagerly, even going so far as to pour him a glass of lemonade that he had prepared while waiting for the meat to cook.

Edward didn't bother to cut the steak on his plate – the dorm knives were horribly dull – and stabbed the meat with his fork and tore off a mouthful with his teeth. The pork melted on his tongue, a surprisingly tasty blend of sweet and crusty. It was shocking how someone with no sense of taste or touch could cook so well, Ed supposed it came after hours of practicing through nights that couldn't be spent sleeping.

Edward felt his eyes fill with tears.

"It's perfect, Al."

"Brother, are you feeling okay? You look sick. Actually, you've looked sick for the past few days. Maybe you should visit the clinic."

Edward swallowed the tears along with the bite of steak.

"Nah, I'm fine. Just… kind of tired. Lots of stuff going on at headquarters and… and stuff."

"Oh. How about you go to bed early tonight? Maybe you'll feel better if you get some extra sleep."

Ed made to stand up from the table.

"That's a great idea."

Alphonse stalled his own idea by pushing Ed back into the chair by pressing a gauntlet to his shoulder.

"Wait, Brother, you should finish your dinner first. You can't get better if you don't eat."

Edward looked reluctant, then some odd thought must have crossed his mind because he made a face, sat back down and continued ripping into the seasoned meat.

When his plate was empty (there were still three steaks left, but Al didn't push him to eat more), Ed successfully left the table and started on his way to his bedroom.

"Goodnight, Brother."

Al went to wash the plate and empty glass but stopped when he heard Ed call his name.

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?"

Whatever sense Alphonse had in the armor told him that his steel body suddenly vibrated and he heard the clang of metal on metal. He turned his helmet to see his brother had wrapped his arms around him and was embracing him as if he was afraid the armor would fall apart if he let go.

Confused but not complaining, Al maneuvered himself until he was facing forward and hugged Edward back.

And then Ed let go and disappeared into his bedroom.

Al made a mental note to visit the colonel in the morning.

XXX

Alone in the room, Ed stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes on the floor. He turned the key in the lock, ensuring privacy, and dragged his mismatched feet to the bed. He flopped on the mattress, ignoring the sheets, and buried his face in the pillows.

Edward did not sleep.

He did his best to keep Al from hearing his sobs.

XXX

"Something's wrong with Brother."

Roy sighed.

This was the second time that day someone had come in complaining about Fullmetal's health. That morning it had been Hughes, insisting that Mustang needed to keep an eye on his major because, in his own words, "the kiddo looked about ready to crash."

Now Alphonse was here in the afternoon, claiming that his brother was planning on doing something stupid – as if anything he ever did was intelligent in the first place.

"He hugged me last night. He _never _hugs _anyone_. He only hugs when he doesn't think he's coming back."

This tidbit on Fullmetal's personality gave Roy pause, but only for a moment.

"Alphonse, your brother's not slated for any missions right now. Where would he go that you don't think he'd come back from? The cantina? The library? Actually, I could see him taking up permanent residence in the library –"

"Someplace he knows he's not supposed to go!"

"And where would that be?"

Al made a noise that sounded like a huff of annoyance – which it couldn't be because Al didn't have lungs.

"I don't know! If it's somewhere he knows he's not supposed to go to, why do you expect him to tell anyone? If he told someone, they would stop him. Because he's _not supposed to go there!_"

"Alphonse, Alphonse, calm down."

The armored boy looked about ready to stomp his sabaton onto the carpeted floor of Roy's office and Mustang didn't want to know what would happen if he did.

"Look, how about you send your brother over and I'll get him to open up. Maybe go out for _ravjul_. Your brother does love those breadsticks they have at that Aerugan place."

This did not relax Al in the slightest.

"Today. You'll talk to him today."

Roy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"_Fine_, I'll talk to him today."

"As soon as possible. Now, if you have to."

"I can't exactly do that when he's not here –"

The door to the office opened and Edward stepped in gingerly.

Both Al and Roy stared at him, then Mustang turned accusingly to Alphonse, silently asking him if he'd planned this. Al shook his helmet, somehow appearing just as confused as Roy despite not being able to express emotions through his body.

Ed seemed to turn green at the sight of his brother.

"Hey… Hey, Al. I wasn't expecting…"

"Hi, Brother… Did you come to talk to the colonel?"

Edward glanced at Roy, as if just now noticing he was in his own office.

"Kind of…"

There was a horribly awkward silence.

Then Alphonse straightened and smoothed down his loincloth although it wasn't wrinkled in the slightest.

"Well… I guess –"

"Don't wait for me."

The command made Alphonse balk. Ed swallowed and his face changed from green to white.

"I – I mean… I have some stuff to do today so… just go back to the dorms and… I'll…"

Ed failed to elaborate further.

"Okay, Brother… See you tonight."

Al crossed the room to the door, passing his brother who refused to look at him opening and closing it daintily.

Ed and Roy, now alone, stared at one another.

Mustang cleared his throat.

"Well, Fullmetal… I was actually meaning to –"

"I have something for you."

Mustang's train of thought was quickly scattered.

"Oh?"

Ed raised his arm and Roy noticed the white folder, looking crudely stuffed of papers, in his hand. Mustang studied it, nonplussed. Fullmetal wasn't behind on any reports that he could think of. Paperwork for sick leave? That would make sense… or maybe…

No, Fullmetal wouldn't trust him with something as personal as alchemy notes.

But he had let Roy in on his "surprise" for his brother.

Perhaps he wanted Mustang to review his calculations.

A warm balm rose inside him at the thought, choking with its whelming.

The idea that Ed would want his help with so intimate (although Mustang himself had offered it) flattered him in a way that he had never considered before.

"I just thought…" Ed's mouth jaw worked like he was trying to fish the words from between his teeth. "I just thought you should have this. Just in case…"

With a slowness that was somewhere between eerie and uncomfortable, Edward placed the folder gently on top of the urgent documents on Mustang's desk. It tilted on its bulge, lopsided and looking strangely lonely. Roy stared at it but made no move to take it. Instead he glanced at Ed's face. Fullmetal seemed entranced by the way the package sat lopsided. The worm of worry that had hatched within him the previous day squirmed, stimulating his instincts, screaming _wrong_ at the way Edward seemed to be beseeching the stuffed envelope, as if it held the answer to some question that had been pestering him for all of his life.

Roy found himself unable to stand it.

"Fullmetal?"

Ed's eyes rose, carefully and reverently, and Mustang was paralyzed as he was coated in the sensation of being catalogued. Edward's gaze was capturing him; not in the way that a woman's would when she was trying to persuade Mustang into buying her a drink, but as if the boy's stare was trying to cage Roy's image in that moment, sitting at his desk and being confused over a lumpy unexpected delivery.

Mustang's uneasiness must have shown on his face because Ed's expression changed, he blinked, and his countenance became one of embarrassment and guilt.

He coughed, not to clear his throat but to break the heavy silence and took a step backward. He now looked terrified and looked at the folder as if the shape inside were a bomb about to go off.

"I have to… I have to go."

Later, Roy would recognize the note of finality in the boy's farewell, at the desperation in the way he turned tail and half-careened, half-sprinted out of the office.

At the sound of the door closing so hard so as it might never open again.

Roy would see it later.

Then, he only saw the burning desire of a mortified adolescent to escape from an awkward scene.

XXX

Roy waited five minutes, staring at the office clock.

When he was sure that Edward had truly left, he immediately set upon to opening the package. Roy was not an inquisitive man, but when one is handed a mysterious envelope that clearly contains more than just impersonal forms, one's lack patience and prodding curiosity is only to expected.

Roy ripped open the folder and pulled out sheets of what looked like journal paper, each with one side covered in messy penmanship, the other side left blank to keep the words upon the other pages from smearing.

The first page was a list of vague instructions.

_If needing, go to 7__th__ warehouse after 6:30 PM _

_Al goes to Hughes; he has agreed to help. _

_If Al is sick, take him to hospital. If military won't pay, take money from account. _

_Account and any funds go to Al. _

_Winry gets automail (duh). Don't know if she'll buy it back, but if so, money goes to Al. _

Mustang figured that "military" meant the military's health plan for soldiers who were injured while enlisted and "account" referenced Fullmetal's research allowance.

That was all Roy could make sense of, the rest was about as obvious as a white kitten in a snowstorm.

He set the list aside and picked up the next page.

It was a diagram.

Multiple rectangles had been drawn, their lines squiggly and in haphazard rows. Most of the were filled with a large "X" but one had the word "Mom" written inside. The rectangle directly to the right of it was labeled with the word "here."

"What the hell, Fullmetal?"

Roy discarded the chart and flipped through the remaining papers.

It was then that Mustang knew what Ed had given him.

The final pages were letters.

He saw Al's name first.

Winry's on the next page.

Pinako Rockbell.

Roy Mustang.

Roy stopped. Ed had written him a farewell letter.

Ed had included Mustang in his will.

Roy dropped the papers as if they had burned him.

It was only natural that Fullmetal would write a will. Most soldiers did. Roy had one. He knew Riza and Hughes had their own. He had never asked his subordinates, but he had always assumed that his team had each documented their posthumous wishes.

It wasn't a legal contract, being on notebook paper and not signed by an attorney, but it made no difference to Mustang.

The list of beneficiaries, the map of the cemetery that showed Ed's clear wish to be buried next to his mother, the letters of parting… it made Roy feel ill just as if it was official.

Mustang did not want to look at it anymore.

He did not want it on his desk anymore.

Roy grabbed the pages and torn envelope and attempted to stuff the contents back into their container.

He had forgotten about the object still inside the packet.

It slid out of its packaging and landed on the wooden desk with a heavy _clump_.

Roy stared at it.

He stared and he knew.

He screamed.

"_Lieutenant!" _

Within the Fullmetal Alchemist's last testament was his State Alchemist's watch.

XXX

Riza and Roy jogged through the halls of Eastern Headquarters, to the parking lot, and collapsed in the nearest military car, both panting and pale-faced.

"I thought you said he'd found a way to bring back Alphonse," she protested as they drove towards the barracks.

"I did," Roy responded, his voice and spirit numb with the shock of his realization. "He has."

"But then why would –"

"Because he's found everything he needs." Mustang's numbness was eaten away by panic with every word. "He's _always _had everything he needs. _He is all he needs_."

Then Hawkeye knew, and the knowing came on so harshly and heavily that she nearly lost control of the wheel.

"He's… he's going to…"

Roy finished what she couldn't bring herself to say.

"He's going to transmute himself."

XXX

It had been around half past four when Roy opened the will. It was nearly five when he and Riza left the office for the Elrics' dorm in a flurry of movement. No one batted an eye. Being the end of the day anyways, the colonel's subordinates were either too preoccupied to notice, and of those who did, thought it strange that they left in such a hurry but did not care enough to inquire. They were probably heading out to some top-secret mission.

Riza stopped him before he knocked on the door.

"Don't tell him."

At Roy's confused face, she elaborated.

"If you tell him what his brother is planning, he might panic, and we don't have time to calm him down."

"But panic might be what we need –"

"Not if it drives him to do something rash. And… and I don't want him to know."

Then Roy understood.

It wasn't so much the risk of Alphonse panicking than it was the likely possibility of Al blaming himself for his brother's actions. As efficient as it would be to have the younger brother with them, Riza didn't want to put the boy through any more stress over Edward… or create the chance that he would be forced to see the outcome if they failed to find Ed in time.

Roy knocked on the door as calmly as he could.

Alphonse answered surprisingly quickly, and the reason why became clear in his greeting.

"You're back! Hey, Brother, I was thinking for dinner we could – oh. Hello, Colonel, Lieutenant. Is something wrong?"

_Something is terribly, terribly wrong. _

Roy forced himself to smile amicably.

"Of course not, Alphonse. We were just looking for your brother. I take it he's not here?"

Al shook his helmet and Mustang felt his insides drop into his feet.

"No. He hasn't come back since he left for your office. Said he had some paperwork to give you." Al suddenly straightened and his gauntlet tightened around the door. "Is Brother in trouble?"

"Of course not," Riza lied, her grin as fake as the colonel's. "There's just… an office dinner tonight and we wanted to know if Edward was up to joining us."

All the tension drained from Alphonse's steely body and though Roy hated tricking him he didn't regret sparing him more strife.

"Oh! Well, maybe you should check the library or the park. He likes to go there if he needs some privacy."

"We will do that." Roy tipped his hat to Al, more grateful for the information than he could say.

XXX

He wasn't at the library or the park.

The librarians on duty at East City Library denied having seen the Fullmetal Alchemist that day.

"He was here yesterday, though," said one young girl who looked somewhere between the ages of Ed and Roy. She frowned as she thought. "He gave me flowers, said he wanted to thank me for how helpful I'd been to him. He didn't look well. Is he all right?"

Riza reassured the girl that Ed would be fine.

XXX

The park was large, too large to search completely, so they settled for asking those heading out if they had seen a young blond boy in a red coat.

They were more successful.

Following the directions of passerby ("I just saw him thataway!" "I think I passed him by the pond."), they discovered an elderly lady resting on a bench.

"You just missed him!" said the woman apologetically. She paused to reach into the paper bag on her lap, fetch a handful of breadcrumbs, and toss them at the eager squirrels and pigeons swarming at her feet. "He sat with me for a while and fed the birds. He was talking about a brother of his, Allie or something, and what a beautiful day it is. He was very polite… but he seemed sad."

The woman watched a pigeon and a squirrel fight over a bit of crust and then looked Roy in the eyes. With an intuition that only those who have experienced the best and worst life has to offer possess, she told Mustang, "You need to find that boy. I fear he's going to do something harmful in the sake of helping."

"Did he tell you where he was going before he left?" asked Riza.

The woman's expression darkened and she shook her head regretfully.

"I'm afraid he didn't. He did say he needed to be somewhere in forty-five so he couldn't stay. He left about fifteen ago."

It was six o' clock now, Roy thought when he instinctively checked the clock tower looming over the rooftops of the town.

Fifteen minutes ago, would have been five-forty-five.

Forty-five after five-forty-five would be six-thirty.

Ed needed to be somewhere at six-thirty.

_If needing… 6:30 PM. _

Roy remembered so violently he cried out, frightening the herd of squirrels and pigeons.

The old lady and Riza stared at him in alarm. He stared back in equal urgency.

"I know where he is."

XXX

The runes and circles were scraggly and messy, a trait that Ed would normally find unacceptable and lead him to destroy the project and start again. But he didn't have time to start over and besides, the array's prettiness didn't affect its efficiency.

The chalk broke for the fourth time with a snap. Edward stared at the half in his hand and the half on the linoleum floor and released a quavering curse. He snatched up the pieces and stuck them back together with a tiny transmutation with his fingers.

Edward was confused.

Not over the array. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, floating at the back of his skull, where it had been burned into his brain. He was confused that he could not get his hands to stop shaking.

For the seventh time that day and the thirty-second time in the past week, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths the way Teacher had taught him and his brother during their half a year in Dublith.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Oxygen goes in.

Carbon dioxide goes out.

Creatures are born and others die, and the world continues to spin.

All is One and One is All.

His head clear and his hands steady, Edward returned to work.

He wasn't unfamiliar with death.

He'd lain, comatose, for three days after the transmutation, waking up tired and impossibly weak as the goliath he'd turned his baby brother into sobbed in relief over his bed.

He'd fought criminals and thugs as they screamed death threats at him, a few of them which he believed and spent the next twenty-four hours after escaping being grateful to whatever force, whether fate or God or his mother's protective spirit, for the outcome.

Any fear that he might have felt in those confrontations had been silenced by the chemicals being pooled into his blood by the tiny glands above his kidneys, and any lingering sense of doom he had felt after victory was short-lived: it was over, he was still alive, and no amount of dwelling on it would change that.

So, he never did.

But this.

Edward's body knew how to protect him from disease, from injury, from enemies who might do him harm.

It did not know how to protect him from himself.

From the moment Ed committed himself to the task at hand, his body had declared war on his mind.

The hunk of brain at the base, where head becomes neck, that is shared by all mammals; alerting of hunger, thirst and danger; longing for life in all its forms through self-preservation and the desire to mate; had launched an attack on the larger section it had been made to guard.

Its clawing to escape made Edward nervous and tremble.

Its calls for help made him choke with tears.

Its terror of succumbing to his chosen destiny made him want to stop this mad endeavor, wipe out the terrible chalk marks and run to someone, something he knew would hold him and shield him from the terrible, terrible world.

His terrible, terrible self.

But what is a human if not stubborn and altruistic?

Edward would not give.

He would not give in to the crazed creature that was survival, because he knew that if he finished this, if he muzzled the monster and simply moved, Alphonse would be… he would be _Alphonse_. And while it was true, he would not see his brother, his true, living brother, he knew Alphonse would be there.

And Al deserved life more than Ed ever would.

Besides, he thought, as his hand shook and botched the swirling sign he was drawing, forcing him to scrub it away and sketch it again, it was better this way. Al would be better this way. They would all be better this way.

Without him, Alphonse would be able to eat his favorite foods and sleep as much as he wanted. Without him, Winry wouldn't constantly be getting behind in her automail projects. Without him, Mustang wouldn't waste so many resources on pointless leads, Granny wouldn't have to strain herself arguing pointlessly with him, and… and…

And the stupid tears were back.

He viciously wiped his eyes and blinked away what was left.

He'd already cried.

He'd already enjoyed that luxury, that one selfishness he'd permitted the creature, after bidding his brother good-bye. The monster had screamed, screeching for someone to find it before it was sent where it couldn't be found, howling in despair at the inevitability of the cessation of its existence, whimpering in terror at the definite uncertainty it would have to face. By morning, Edward had been exhausted in both energy and tears, and had found himself hugging his knees and rocking himself on his bed to gain some semblance of comfort.

Edward hadn't eaten anything in the past three days, save the steak Al insisted he finish, nor had he slept. He'd snuck out through the window after asking Al to give him some privacy for the next few nights ("It's a… man… thing. You'll know when you're older." Alphonse hadn't inquired further), climbed back into the bedroom as the sun began to rise (staying on the first floor had its advantages, even if they had to deal with sounds of all of the inhabitants above them), and walked through the dorm and out the door again, claiming he had big plans for the day and he would eat on his way.

Food and rest had not been top priorities for the creature. Besides, any sustenance he might have taken would have been wasted.

Edward realized the rune he'd just repaired had been the last.

He sat back, admiring the culmination of his "big plans."

Even if it wasn't his last day (his last hour, his last _minutes_) he would never forget this array.

Funny. He'd designed it for the sake of life, but all it had ever proven useful for had been death.

He was stalling.

Edward took a deep, sobering breath and raised his hands to clap.

And the animal made one last effort, so strong that Ed's hands went to his head instead of to each other. The monster was throwing itself against the walls of the cage Edward had locked it in, reaching out with nails unsheathed and ripping at him, chewing a passage to safety with its fangs, keening and squalling to its host, to the world, to God or fate or whatever force powered the universe.

_Help me._

_Stop me_.

_Don't let me do this. _

Edward, hands now tangled in his hair, was left curled in a ball on the cold, chalk-colored floor of the warehouse, rocking himself as he fought this internal battle, this final onslaught. His concentration was so strong that he did not know that he was speaking until he heard his voice.

"Help me. _Stop me. _Please… _please stop me_."

The creature was gaining ground. The bars were bending, it was shoving its way through the gap it had made, ready to run, run and find his way back to Al –

_Alphonse. _

Edward remembered why he was doing this.

With a gargled cry of exertion, he wrested the monster back into its prison, shoved the restraints back into placed, tore his hands from his scalp and smashed them together.

The ringing sound and metallic smell that heralded the birth of a transmutation, a sensation that had always set his blood to singing, was making him feel nauseous.

The twinge of regret that the last thing he would ever feel was one of unpleasantness was the final thought he had before he slammed his palms to the linoleum.

The world lurched into tumbling chaos.

XXX

Roy was beginning to think his soul had left his body at the office because everything that happened after he and Hawkeye had left Headquarters had felt steadily more distant, as if he was observing himself pass through the day rather than acting through it. He was all but numb when they reached the warehouse district, where the railroad met the canal. They scrambled out of the car at the gate, abandoning it as Riza flashed her military credentials at the guard who was exiting his station to accost them. He took one look at the blue of their uniforms and the stars on Roy's shoulders and backed away, waving them forward with nervousness as if they would have arrested him if he'd dared open his mouth.

Mustang's brain was sparking with panic, every intelligent thought dissolving in the adrenaline boiling in his blood, so that if it hadn't been for the large painted numbers on the sides of the depots, he would have lost count before he'd begun to keep track.

It took them a little over a minute to reach the seventh warehouse from the gate, though it felt like five to Roy, which felt like an eternity given the strict curfew they had been issued.

Mustang and Hawkeye had arrived at the district at six-twenty-five.

They reached the seventh warehouse at six-twenty-eight.

Roy was fully prepared to storm the metal door, intending to rip it from its hinges with brute force. He knew that doing so would certainly seriously injure him.

It was a good thing, then, that Edward had not only not relocked the door after entering, he had left it slightly ajar. When he did this, he told himself it was so that it would Al and Roy and whoever else came after him wouldn't have to waste time fussing over keys. He told himself that this explanation was not completely nonsensical and that the true answer was not that he wanted them to find him before it was too late.

Things as they were, Mustang fell careening into the warehouse, saw the array out of the corner of his eye rather than in full because his gaze was focused on the boy who had raised his hands to bring them down on the floor, and catapulted himself into Edward, and then both of them into the wall.

XXX

It was dark and hot.

There was loud panting in his ear.

His arm felt tight, like it was being squeezed.

He waited.

What he waited for, he didn't know.

Perhaps this was death, simply lying in the dark, unable to move, but still aware of the world continuing without him.

Perhaps he was a ghost.

Did ghosts breathe? They shouldn't need to, he supposed, being dead. He held his breath (or whatever equivalent ghosts had), but the frantic panting didn't stop, and with his senses sharpened in anticipation, he noticed the rough beating of a heart, fast and hard, as if its owner had just finished a foot race.

He realized he had eyes when he opened them.

He saw a sea of blue cloth, the tiny stitches crisscrossing each other.

He looked up.

Colonel Roy Mustang, eyes wide with shock and terror and face wet with sweat, stared back at him.

His first thought was that Roy had found his body and he was observing his commanding officer's dramatic scene of mourning while clutching his cooling remains. Then he remembered that, trading his physical being for his brother's, the transmutation shouldn't have left a body to be grieved over.

Edward's second thought was that Roy had either gotten caught in the transmutation or performed one of his own in an attempt to reclaim Fullmetal. He felt equal parts guilt and anger over this theory.

Then Roy's face, soft with concern and weak with shock, hardened with fury.

Ed knew neither of his hypotheses had been correct when Mustang clouted him hard enough that his teeth cut the inside of his cheek and his tongue was bathed in blood.

"_What the hell is wrong with you?!_"

Even if Edward had had an answer, he wouldn't have been able to give it, because the colonel grabbed his shoulders and shook the wind from him.

"How in the goddamned world did you think _this _was a solution?! What were you going to do?! What was _your brother _going to do?! What was _I _going to do?! You were just going to _leave us_, after _everything_ and _everyone_, like we were never here?! Did any of it even matter to you?! You are so _fu_ –"

"_Colonel_!"

The invoking of his title brought him back to his senses.

Riza had simply stared, too stunned and terrified to do anything else as she realized how close, how _harrowingly _close, they had been to losing him. The fact that her attention was spiked by dyspathy rather than clouded with rage meant that she saw what Mustang didn't see: Edward's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lost consciousness.

XXX

In the moment that Roy struck him, Edward knew he was alive.

He was alive and they had stopped him.

He was not going to die, not tonight, not by his own machinations, and the animal that was survival sensed this, smelled it, felt it; and with the strength gained from this realization, finally broke the bars of the cage Edward had battled it into.

And with survival's escape came life: Edward was _alive_, and being alive had prices, prices that were long overdue. The hunger and thirst from avoiding sustenance for days, the exhaustion from the sleepless nights, the familiar relief that replaced terror when the danger had passed, all together in the cacophony that was survival's roar. Enraged and overwhelmed, the monster did the only thing it knew to do when there was far too much, far too fast – it bit into Ed's core, sending black spots sprouting in his vision and blurring the lecture Mustang was howling at him into static.

The ground vanished beneath him and he fell into the emptiness below.

XXX

Riza yanked the boy from Roy's arms before Mustang dropped him, which he looked like he might have very well done if she hadn't intervened. She had the sense to lay Edward on his back, his head resting in her lap, watching as his eyes rolled beneath the lids and a cold sweat dampened his skin. His breathing seemed normal, if a bit fast, and she didn't think a medical team needed to be called.

Even so…

"Colonel, do you have a flask on you?"

Roy gave her a dumbfounded stare.

"Lieutenant… this is hardly the time to imbibe –"

"For water, sir. Edward needs water."

Mustang made a small "oh" of realization and performed a shabby dance as he patted himself down in search of a container.

He did not have one on his person, but after a quick bit of searching, he found a shipment of lukewarm soda waiting to be placed on the next train to Central. He pilfered a bottle, hoping Fullmetal liked cola, and hurried back to his subordinates.

If Hawkeye wasn't impressed by his foraging skills, she did not show it.

She pulled her pistol from its holster and used the barrel of the gun to bend the metal cap from the glass neck, then hastily stuffed the firearm back into its sleeve. Edward had begun to stir, making soft squeaking sounds as he awoke, and blinked his eyes open when Riza snaked her arms under his own and hefted him into a sitting position. Ed sucked a breath through his nose and brought his flesh hand to his face to rub his eyes, as if he had merely woken from sleep. He did not seem to notice that he was leaning against Hawkeye's torso and didn't become aware of his surrounding until Riza took the soda bottle from Roy, whom she had given the drink to while she adjusted Fullmetal, and all but thrust it into his face.

He stared dizzily at it for a heartbeat, then snatched from the lieutenant before she could give him the order to drink. He didn't realize that he was downing lukewarm black cherry fizz until the bottle was half-empty and bubbles of carbon were burning his nose.

Under normal circumstances, Roy would have laughed at the sight of Edward Elric pulling from a carafe with such intense look in his eyes that he reminded Mustang of an over-eager calf drinking formula. As things were, the expression of concentration he held for such a simple task frightened Mustang as he thought about its implications.

When the soda was three-fourths gone, Ed lowered the bottle, panting as he released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He seemed to remember his commanding officers were there, because he looked over his shoulder at Riza, face curious, then slowly shifted his gaze to Roy, more wary than wondering. Neither adult reacted beyond staring back stoically, and after a few seconds, Edward looked away and started studying the stolen soda.

Roy sighed and ran his hand over his face, exasperated but not knowing absolutely why for.

"When was the last time you ate?"

The question had Ed's attention back to Roy, then slowly away again, countenance melting into something akin to shame.

Roy had expected as much, but he sighed again.

"Can you walk?"

Ed's face stared at him again, confused. After a bit of pondering, he nodded uncertainly and Roy gestured wordlessly for Hawkeye to help him stand. Ed swayed dangerously, still holding the bottle, creating an impressively accurate depiction of a street drunk. Riza held him to her, one arm around his shoulders and the other against his left side, and gently guided him out of the warehouse, away from the chalk runes, so dreadfully simple and so simply deadly.

XXX

The guard raised his eyebrows as the officers led the boy, small and shaking out of the district. Roy was exhausted, physically and mentally, but he shocked himself as he flashed his charming smile and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Vandalism. Thought it would be cute to draw some gang motifs on the floor of number seven. Shouldn't need more than some water and a brush to come off. Good night."

It seemed to the guard that the faces the soldiers had been wearing when they had come tearing through the gate hadn't constituted elementary graffiti, but the guard wasn't paid enough to care, so he accepted it with a nod of his head and resumed his post.

Hawkeye climbed into the driver's seat, leaving Mustang to settle Fullmetal in the backseat and took the space next to him.

"Forty-first street, please, lieutenant."

Hawkeye glanced back curiously at the request, but obeyed, nonetheless. On their way to the bar district of the city, Roy would glance occasionally at Edward, who had gone from drinking from the bottle to toying with it.

"Fullmetal," he would say gruffly, making the boy snap his eyes on the colonel with a guilt neither could pinpoint. "Drink," Roy would order, indicating with is gaze the diminishing beverage in Ed's hands. Edward would look at the soda as if he was just remembering it was there, then bring it to his lips and take a few swallows, then go back to fiddling with the glass until Mustang reminded him once more.

When they reached their destination, Hawkeye parked on by the curb and let herself out, then opened the door for the Mustang and helped Edward crawl out. He was steadier than he had been, the surge of sugar in his blood clearing his head if only slightly, but Riza kept a hand on his shoulder as they followed Roy's purposeful strides. He stopped at a night-diner and went inside with the ease of someone who frequented the establishment often.

The waitress, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled into pigtails, looked up smilingly as the colonel entered, then blinked in surprise as the lieutenant and the major came in behind him. She exhibited no other thought towards the additional two clienteles besides the standard hospitality and led them to a booth. Mustang didn't bother to glance at the chalk-board menu on the wall behind the counter and ordered a round of coffee for himself and Riza. The hostess made to ask their boy what he would like and paused when she saw that his skin had turned a sickly shade of whitish-green.

"Toast and juice to start with," Roy answered for him and waved the girl on her way.

Ed wasn't sure if he was on the verge of drooling or throwing up. His stomach was empty and the hunger pangs wringing his insides felt like razors tumbling inside him, and yet he hadn't eaten in so long that his belly had gotten used to vacancy and consideration of the sudden change seemed to wrack his system with nervousness.

The waitress returned quickly with a pot of coffee, two mugs, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a small plate of two slices of buttered toast.

The toast was half-gone as soon as she placed the plate in front of Edward. Mustang, Hawkeye, and the server all stared in a mix of consternation and concern as the emerald tint of Fullmetal's flush faded into paleness. He didn't appear to chew the toast, only held the entire slice in his mouth as his body decided how he should react, then swallowed it whole, eyes sparking with a new conviction as he feverishly grabbed for the second one. He squealed in indignation when Roy pulled the plate away.

"Full egg breakfast for him, if you please," said Mustang, smiling pleasantly as if he were just having a late dinner with his family. The girl nodded, still studying the boy worriedly, then whisked away to the kitchen. Once she was gone, Roy turned his stern face to Edward, who was ogling the toast that the colonel was holding hostage.

"_Slowly_," he emphasized, keeping Ed's eyes to make sure his insistence was understood. "Slowly, or you'll be sick. Do you understand?"

Edward wagged his head impatiently and lunged for the plate. Roy let him take it but kept his hard gaze on Fullmetal as Ed shakily gobbled the toast one restrained bite at a time, chewing thoroughly and swallowing before taking the next one. It was a full ten minutes after Edward had finished the toast that his bacon and eggs arrived; ten minutes that were spent anxiously staring at the hostess as she moved from the kitchen to serve the other two occupied tables in the diner and trying to surreptitiously wipe the drool that slunk down his chin at the smell of Roy's coffee.

Edward had no restraint to exhibit when the food was in front of him and Mustang didn't bother curbing him. If the toast had stayed down, Roy figured, there was little reason to worry about how the meat would keep. Riza, on the other hand, established her boundaries when Ed was getting half of the eggs on his face instead of in his mouth in his haste, and insisted that he slow down, if only for the sake of politeness.

Riza had only one mug of coffee and Roy was polishing off his second when Ed swallowed the last bite of bacon, eating noticeably calmer than he had started, and blinked listlessly at the empty dish. He had gulped two and a half tall glasses of juice, and the tangy taste of fresh oranges mixed with the fatty flavor of the bacon in a bizarrely satisfying combination.

Then his face was _on _the dish and his face was coated in grease.

The animal, free from its cage and now thoroughly watered and fed, stretched languidly and curled up in a dark, warm den; satisfied in all things except the simplest and most mysterious need for rest.

Ed was denied this need because Hawkeye sat him up and used a wet napkin to wipe the remnants of his supper off his cheek.

He wasn't awake enough to properly protest, but he grimaced and tried to turn away. Riza just held his chin to keep him still and finished cleaning him. Then he was being pulled to his feet, because the colonel was paying their tab and he was being half-led, half-dragged as he wobbled out of the diner and back into the car.

He didn't remember what happened next, but he thought he felt something warm and heavy being placed over him.

XXX

Fullmetal was out of it as soon as he sat in the backseat. He slumped against the window like an abandoned ragdoll. The night wasn't particularly cold, yet Mustang found himself shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the boy like a sheet.

The ride to Roy's townhouse was silent. Not the tense, anticipatory silence that heralds an unpleasant conversation, but the sweet, gentle silence that is brought on by hot food and the promise of a soft bed. It was in this silence that Roy realized his own exhaustion, and by the time Riza pulled into his driveway, he was fighting not to nod off.

So much so that he jumped when the lieutenant opened his door and nearly fell face-first onto the pavement.

Roy stumbled to a stand, then made his way around the car for the major.

"Sir, you're clearly tired. If it would help –"

"I've got him."

He did have him.

He buckled and almost dropped him under the unexpected weight that came with two metal limbs, but he had him.

Riza settled for walking in front of them and unlocking the door with the key Roy had given her the day he had purchased the house and holding it open so that the colonel could bear a softly snoring Fullmetal to the worn sofa in the living room. Roy puffed with relief once he had successful lowered the boy onto the furniture. Ed immediately rolled over with a deep sigh and nestled himself into the cushions.

Hawkeye fetched a pillow and a blanket (Roy suspected she fetched them from his bed), stuffing the pillow under the boy's head and trading the overcoat for actual linen.

Then, not knowing what else to do, they watched him sleep.

It hit Roy, in that moment, that the fact that he was here, sleeping on Mustang's sofa, was a stroke of the sheerest, dumbest luck; so much so that he wondered if he had spent his life's cache of fortune on this one marvel. Unbidden by any force he knew, he found himself pulling the cover up to the boy's shoulders and smoothing Edward's frizzled hair. Ed snorted and twitched but didn't wake.

As Roy withdrew his hand, he discovered that his account of serendipity was not yet empty.

"I don't expect to see you in the morning, colonel."

Roy stared at Hawkeye, unsure he had heard her correctly.

"Sir, excuse my bluntness, but you and Edward are obviously exhausted."

It was only nine in the evening.

Roy's body felt like it was made of granite.

The full day of office work along with the terror-filled hour and forty minutes searching for Fullmetal, compounded by the five minutes fueled by pure adrenaline, had left Mustang jaded. Somehow, hearing someone acknowledge it out loud sapped away the last bit of energy he had, and he found himself sitting hard on the end of the sofa, Edward's feet by his lap, and slumping forward to hold his head in his hands.

Riza placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, one of her rare exhibitions of physical affection.

"Get some rest, sir. And please, call me if you need anything." She glanced at the little boy sinking into the shabby couch as he snored. "Either of you."

She must have left, because when Roy opened his eyes she was gone, though he hadn't heard the door. He was dizzy with fatigue. He ought to go to bed, he thought as he leaned back against the settee and dozed.

Go to bed and sleep…

He slept.

XXX

Neither had made the conscious decision, seeing as how they hadn't been conscious when they made it, but at around midnight Ed shoved his flesh foot beneath Roy for warmth. Roy himself had gotten uncomfortable cramps from sitting up for so long and naturally tried to lay down, found someone already there, and compromised by curling himself around Edward, as if they boy were a teddy bear.

By five in the morning, Ed had snuggled into Roy's chest and Mustang held Fullmetal against him protectively.

This was how the colonel found the two of them when he awoke at eight.

XXX

Mustang believed he'd handled the situation rather well.

When he'd come awake to the golden sunlight streaming through the window and the gentle silence from the birds who had yet to rise, and lay on his couch feeling beautifully unreal as one does in the earliest of the morning, before the world has realized that it is indeed morning and everything seems empyrean, he wondered why it was that he had been sleeping on his sofa – and why he was no longer asleep and could no longer feel his right arm.

Then he was kicked by a hard, cold foot and its owner pressed his face into Roy's shoulder with a gargling sigh.

Roy did not jump up or throw the boy away from him. In fact, though he would deny it if one asked him, he considered staying like this and go on sleeping for another couple of hours. Then Edward whined and dug his nails into Mustang's shirt. Roy wriggled out of instinct to escape the discomfort and disentangled himself enough to see Fullmetal's face. His expression was in contrast to the ambience; while the room was peaceful, Edward's face was troubled, as if he'd been given a mission on which his brother couldn't join him.

Ed grunted and rolled closer to Mustang, determined to use the colonel's torso as a pillow. As soon as he got his cheek up against Roy's ribs, the boy sighed and stilled. He was probably having a bad dream, Mustang thought as he watched the worry lines on Fullmetal's forehead smooth. Roy decided to settle back down and rest his eyes until Ed had calmed somewhat.

Yes, that was the only reason why he was allowing this to continue.

After about a half-hour of dozing, Mustang checked on the boy who was now flopped on his back, shoulder blades still cutting off circulation to Roy's hand. He had quieted a bit, he no longer looked troubled and instead seemed indifferent to the freshness of the day.

It took some doing, but Mustang managed to lever himself up and over the boy, slip his arm out from beneath him, and maneuver himself into a standing position on the living room floor. Ed snorted and shrank into himself at the loss of warmth. Roy picked up the blanket and pillow that that fallen during the night and resituated him so that his hand was gripping the sheet rather than Roy's rumpled shirt.

Roy went to use the water closet.

This proved rather difficult, what with his dominant hand being about as useful as a dead fish stuck to the end of his arm. He had to wait a few minutes, shaking and waving his arm and feeling very, very silly, until the nerves turned to fire in a flash of awakening pain and he was suddenly able to use his fingers again, albeit clumsily.

He left the washroom, his dead arm now mostly alive, and stood in the hallway, trying to decide what to do.

He decided he was hungry and ought to start on breakfast.

XXX

Edward was accustomed to waking up after spending the night on a sofa.

He was not accustomed to waking up after spending the night on a sofa in a house he did not recognize with a military jacket lying crumpled on the floor beside him.

For a moment, he wondered if he should panic. He decided he shouldn't. Whoever brought him here didn't seem to mean him harm, seeing as how they had given him a blanket and pillow and had left him unrestrained.

He wondered where the water closet was.

He stood up stiffly, surprised by his initial unsteadiness.

The house smelled of breakfast being prepared.

He took the most logical route towards what looked like a hallway and found a washroom waiting patiently for him. He stopped at the sight of himself in the mirror. His face was the color of milk, with two blots as red as apples on his cheeks. His hair was dull and oily and he suddenly felt itchy in his skin.

He wanted a shower but had no spare clothes. He settled for splashing cold water on his face to try to heighten his alertness. He was still wretchedly tired, and if it hadn't been for his dry mouth and full bladder, he would have happily remained on the sofa.

He headed down the hallway in the opposite direction from which where he'd slept, and the smell of bacon and eggs and mushrooms became stronger.

When he found the kitchen, he stood in the entry, unsure of what to do.

Roy Mustang sipped lazily at a steaming mug of black coffee as he perused the morning paper, wearing fresh civilian clothes and occasionally stabbing an omelet with a fork. Across from him, an empty seat – the only other seat at the table – stood empty, and plate and glass set with it expectantly.

Edward had the eerie assumption they were waiting for him.

"I know it's not that different from what we had last night, but I'm not much of a cook."

The words were without warning and Ed jumped, and so did his memory.

He did not feel embarrassed upon remembering as he might have expected. Instead, he felt quite nervous as everything he'd done and tried to do came back to him, and the fact that he was apparently situated in the colonel's house for the foreseeable future meant that there would be no escape from the ramifications of what Mustang had done and what he might try to do.

For a foolish second Ed considered bolting but chose not to. There was nowhere he could go that would free him from the inevitable, and he decided he would rather take his chances with the colonel's intrusiveness than Al's concern.

That, and he was hungry.

He sat down gingerly, as if the chair could have been rigged, and poked at the food cautiously before taking a bite. He took a sip of the cranberry juice and made a face at its tartness.

Roy allowed him to eat and drink in silence, the only sounds being that of swallowing, placing cups on wood, and the pages of the newspaper. When breakfast was gone and Mustang ran out of interesting tidbits to read, Roy set the paper aside and sighed, anchoring his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers to make a hammock for his chin.

"So," he began, his eyes half-open and weary, "mind telling me the logistics of that operation you had going on last night, Fullmetal?"

Edward's eggs roiled in his stomach. He said nothing and stared at his empty plate, hands in his lap.

"Seemed like something you'd been planning for a while, huh?"

Ed shrugged, eyes still down.

"Tell me," Mustang said, stretching leisurely and standing up to collect the dishes, "what did you see your brother and mechanic friend doing in the years after your escapade? Fawning over your freshly tilled grave and living to praise the selflessness of the young soldier who decided it would be easier to blow himself up than to deal with life's personal problems?"

"_It's not like that!" _The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Roy studied the stack of porcelain he'd constructed but made no move to take it to the sink.

"It's not? So, you were thinking your loved ones would simply except your decision to kill yourself and take it in stride? 'Oh dear, it looks like Fullmetal decided vaporize himself in the name of science! Oh well, guess I'll go pick up some milk from the market on my way to collect my share of the will!'"

Edward glared viciously and his fists clenched beneath the table.

"No."

"Then what _did_ you think was going to happen?" Roy finally let some of the smoldering fury he'd tamed burn freely. "You had everything else figured out, surely you'd considered the aftermath of it all?"

Ed's flesh fingers started fiddling with a screw on his metal hand.

"Al was going to have his body back."

"I gathered that, Fullmetal," Mustang growled, fighting not to roll his eyes. "I meant _after _that? Once your brother had his body back, where would he go? What would he do? _Without you_?"

"He probably would've stayed with Hughes for a while," Edward responded mechanically, reading off the manuscript in his brain.

"_And then_?" Mustang was fighting the temptation to wring the words from the boy.

Ed shrugged.

"Whatever he wanted to, I guess."

Roy slammed his hands on the table, the resounding thunderclap spooking Ed into sitting up.

"Whatever he wanted? _Whatever he wanted?!_"

Edward was tempted to say yes, that was indeed what he'd said, but lacked the energy for the snarky comment.

"What if – and I know this is hard to believe – but _what if _what Alphonse would want to do was _be with his brother who was alive and well_?! Oh, but you didn't think of that did you? You were too distracted by your desire to be the hero of the day, to sacrifice yourself for the ones you love most – _the ones who love _you _the most_ – to think that maybe, _maybe_, this noble escapade of yours would have caused more harm than good?!"

"You don't know _anything_." The words sped from Edward's tongue like venom.

"I apparently know more than you." Roy's fingers bent against the table, instinctively trying to form fists. "I know that Alphonse would never, _could _never want this. _No one _could ever want this."

"Well, if no one wanted it, what makes you think I did?" Ed didn't know where he was going with his argument, but it was a flaw in the colonel's statement, even if it invalidity was debatable.

"If you didn't want it, why were you going to do it?!"

"Why does it matter?!"

"Because what other reason would you have?!"

Edward opened his mouth to retort… but nothing came.

Roy sighed and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. When he looked up, he looked exhausted despite how hard he'd slept the previous night.

"Fullmetal… do you… do you want to die?"

Edward thought to lie.

He thought to say he did not.

The lie caught in his throat.

"I… don't know."

The silence was crushing.

"You know… you could have talked to someone. You could have talked to _me_."

Edward's anger came back in a rage.

"I wasn't doing it because I was _sad_, Mustang! If that was it, then I wouldn't have survived the horrible dessert selection at the cafeteria."

Mustang's ire fired up just as hot.

"Then _why_?!"

"I don't know!"

"How can you not know?! We both know you were doing it for Alphonse and we both know Alphonse would never have wanted it! What other reason would you have?!"

"What other reason would I need?!"

"Because Alphonse needs you! What was he supposed to do without you?!"

"He was supposed to _live_!"

Roy roared with frustration at the cyclical nature of the conversation. The reaction was unexpected and Edward flinched at the sound.

"What kind of life would he have had without you?!"

"A good one?!"

"How on earth would it be good?!"

"Because he'd be human!"

"But you'd be gone!"

"Yes!"

"His life would be good because you'd be gone?!"

"_Yes_!"

The confession was free before he could stop it.

And with the confession came the tears.

Roy hadn't been expecting it. Neither had Ed. Neither was ready when Ed's legs collapsed beneath him and he dropped into the chair, shaking with a truth he'd been refusing to acknowledge and yet indulging the moment he decided to sacrifice himself.

Roy could do nothing but stare as Edward buried his face in his hands and trembled.

Edward could do nothing but sob and hate himself.

When he finally gained enough breath to speak, he kept going, having no reason to stop now that the worst was out in the open.

"'m supposed to keep him safe… And I _didn't_… I _can't_… _I killed him_!"

"You didn't kill your brother." It was a pointless thing to say, but Roy was pointless in situations like these.

"Being trapped in a body that doesn't breathe or feel or even sleep is _living_?!" Edward's watery eyes were flooded with anger, but the anger wasn't for the colonel.

It never had been.

"I killed him, and I… I couldn't even let him die! I killed Mom and I let her… but I couldn't…"

Fullmetal started rocking back and forth, perhaps trying to soothe himself with the motion.

"No one has killed anyone."

It wasn't true.

Not for Edward, at least.

The boy was inconsolable.

"I'm supposed to keep him safe… he's my baby brother… And I was too scared… I was too _scared _to let him die… _I was too scared to die_!"

The realization hit Mustang like the beast he was named for.

Fullmetal wasn't lamenting not transmuting himself the previous night.

He regretted not transmuting himself at the very beginning.

His desire to die did not stem from a wish to escape, but a wish to prove himself, to prove himself worthy of being the older brother, to fulfill what he felt to be his inherited obligation – an obligation he believed he had grossly failed to meet.

Edward had diffused to whimpers.

"Coward… Al needs me and I'm a coward… stupid, selfish, _coward…_ he would be better if I'd… I should've… I was _scared_…"

"Fullmetal."

"Shut up."

"Alphonse would not be better off with you dead."

"_Shut up_."

"He needs you more than anything, especially with the way he is right now."

"All I do is make things worse… it's all I've ever done… should've _died_… we should have _died_…"

Edward had settled to rocking, shaking, and mumbling; broken by the occasional hiccup.

"What would that have accomplished? Instead of at least one Elric brother, there would have been none, and I have to say, I think I prefer more than one."

"You would've been better off with just Al." Ed seemed to determine to continue to believe the detriment he thought his existence had amounted to. "Al would've been the better Fullmetal."

"Would he, though?" Mustang was not playing with Edward's feelings. Mustang did not play. It was honest speculation and had nothing to do with convincing Fullmetal of his self-worth.

Absolutely nothing.

"The Fuhrer gave you that title because of who you are. It was made for _you_, not the other way around. Alphonse could never be the Fullmetal Alchemist because he could never be _you_."

It was the sappiest, stupidest thing either of them had ever heard, Fullmetal's disgusted expression told him. He was right.

"You should have chosen Al."

"Why?"

"Because he's _good _and _kind _and… and just _better_."

"But what if I wanted you?"

"You should have chosen Al!"

"But I wanted you."

"_You should have chosen Al!" _

"He's not you, though."

"_That's why you should've chosen him!" _

Edward stood up, banging his metal fist on the table hard enough to crack the wood, and Roy found himself reaching for the dishes for fear that Ed was looking for something to throw.

Edward's tears had morphed into hiccups. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Edward, if you're so sure that Alphonse would make a better State Alchemist, why were _you _the one who enlisted?"

Edward blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Because… they would've found about his body… they would've taken him away…"

"And why did you become a State Alchemist in the first place?"

"… Have to get his body back…"

"And why did you get automail?"

"… so I could join… t'get his body back…"

Edward had begun to slump, the exhaustion he hadn't yet lost had begun to sap at him. His eyes were becoming glazed and he'd started blinking frequently.

"Now tell me this: if Alphonse had not survived the taboo, what would you have done instead?"

Horror crossed Ed's features as he imagined such a universe, a universe he had imagined before and would most certainly continue to imagine in the future.

"Nothing…"

"Nothing? But you would have been alive and human. You could have grown up, married your ladyfriend, and had a brood bigger than the Armstrongs." Mustang couldn't stop himself from shivering at the thought. "You could have done anything you wanted. So why do nothing?"

Edward grunted and wiped his sticky face with his flesh hand.

"Without Al… what's the point?"

Neither said anything for a while. A sparrow chirped and the neighbor's dog barked. The growling of an engine as a car passed on the road drowned out both.

"Why do you think it would be any different for Alphonse?"

Ed sat back down slowly, staring at the floor.

"If your brother woke up this morning, human and alive and you gone, what makes you think he would react any different than you would?"

Edward lowered his head, his breathing deep and tired, and occasionally sniffled.

"Your brother wants his body back so he can be with _you_. More than anything, more than being human, he wants to be with _you_. And if he can't be with you, then why should he bother being anything at all?

Edward looked up now, a cinder of stubbornness in his gaze, one last attempt to win the conversation.

"How do you know that? How do you know any of this?!"

Roy sighed, deciding to humor the boy. And answer his uncomfortably valid question.

"Because I know you. You and your brother. And… and because I needed someone to tell me the same thing once."

Roy expected Edward to ask who the someone was. He didn't, which was a relief to Roy, because it would have been exhausting to explain how Maes and Riza had fought him inside that house, years ago, a broken bottle of cognac on the kitchen floor and his gloves on his hands, fingers poised to snap. Hawkeye had cocked her pistol and threatened to shoot his thumbs off, but Hughes had beat her by slamming Mustang against the sink and dunking the then inebriated lieutenant colonel under the faucet.

Instead, the boy asked, "Who is it for you?"

The tense of the question told Roy it wasn't the one he'd feared. Mustang had to ponder his answer but gave it truthfully.

"Lots of people, I suppose. At first, it was a few, and now… well, there are a lot of them."

He did not go into detail, not because he wished to be vague, but because he knew he didn't need to.

Edward "hmmm'ed" thoughtfully.

Roy did not know why this response made him say what he said next.

"And… one of them might be you…"

The chair squealed as it was pushed back and Mustang started, unsure of what to do as Edward stood up and walked sluggishly towards him. Ed stopped in front of him and simply stood there for a heartbeat, then leaned forward, thumping his head against the colonel's chest.

Roy supposed this must be the Elric way of showing affection.

Chuckling with a humor he did not feel, he placed a hand on the golden head, gently ruffling the boy's hair.

"Are you going to tell Al?" Fullmetal's voice was rough and quiet and desperate.

"No," Roy thought after a second of deliberation. "Unless you're planning on pulling another stunt?"

Edward said nothing, but his body trembled with silent, wasted weeping. Mustang moved his hand from the boy's head to his shaking shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, kiddo…"

XXX

Fullmetal went back to the couch and back to sleep.

It was Maes, not Riza, who checked up on them, and when he saw Mustang on the sofa with a slumbering Edward beside him and paperwork in his lap, Hughes raised a brow inquiringly. Roy shrugged.

"So… was it –"

"You were right," Roy conceded as he signed off a form and placed on the stack of completed sheets. "It wasn't good."

"So… back to the drawing board?"

"Basically."

Maes watched the child sleep, his eyes wet with pity.

"Poor little guy…"

"Don't let him hear you say that."

Hughes smiled sadly.

"You still down for tomorrow night?"

Roy made a noise of longing.

"Maes, I need a full scotch after what this kid just tried to do."

Roy wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting, but he wasn't expecting Hughes to throw back his head and laugh like a Pelznickel at a Solstice feast. Neither was Edward, because he moaned and rolled over, his face scrunched in annoyance.

Maes silenced at the sound and Roy shot him a pointed look.

"Sorry… it's just that… that's how it works, Roy. They always do something that drives you to a full bottle and they always will. It's part of the deal."

Hughes left shortly after that, promising to pick up some food for Ed and the colonel and inform Alphonse of his brother's whereabouts.

Roy was left wondering what exactly his friend had meant.

XXX

Three days later, Mustang was interrupted at his desk by a sound he had never heard in his office before: giggling. Not the conspiratorial chuckling of a pair of officers sharing a rude joke, but true giggling: the sound of a happy, playful child.

Roy looked up, too bewildered to focus on his work, when the door burst open and Edward Elric scampered in like a kitten chasing a ball of yarn. The boy ducked behind the colonel's chair as his brother clambered after him, unfazed by their sprint while Ed was lightly panting.

"What in the – "

"Missed me, missed me, now you gotta – aah!"

Alphonse launched himself behind the colonel's desk after his brother, grabbing for him with a leather gauntlet. Ed hopped away and danced on the carpet, grinning wickedly as Al stumbled and held the wall for support.

"What are you two doing?!"

Al pointed accusingly at Fullmetal.

"_He_ tried to transmute my head!"

Edward pointed right back.

"_He _called me a monkey!"

"You've been climbing over everything all day!"

"I want to climb things!"

"Why?!"

"'Cause I do!"

"_Why?!" _

"'Cause I can!"

"You tried to climb the statue of General Vickers in the park!"

"I wanted to see what it looked like on top of his head!"

"We almost got arrested for trespassing!"

"It's public property, anyone can go there!"

"The land it's on may be public, but the statue belongs to the memory of a great soldier and to treat it in such a way is highly disrespectful," Mustang chastised his major, still unsure of what exactly he had become involved in. Al crossed his arms, looking as smug as a suit of armor can.

"_Brother_ ran away from the officer who told him to come down."

"I did come down. Here I am!" Ed proffered his hands, displaying authenticity of his presence.

"You ran away and made him chase after you. You made _me _chase after you!"

"I outrank him, he can't do anything to me."

"You're right, he can't," Roy conceded, to both brothers surprise. "But he _can _report the incident to _me_, and _I_, on the other hand, can do whatever I want about it."

Fullmetal had stopped dancing. Al was radiating with satisfaction at the justice his brother would be forced to face.

"Now, was there a reason you two came to me unannounced? Or were you just hoping I'd grant you impunity for desecrating historical memorials?"

"Oh, that's right!" Al came around the desk to face the colonel from the front. It was much more comfortable for Roy not to have to crane his neck to look the young alchemist in the eyes – or whatever constituted eyes for someone lacking an organic body. "Brother and I read a paper that was published from the university a few weeks ago. Apparently, the medical alchemy department has managed to grow teeth and hair from a cheek swab!"

"They're making a homunculus!" Edward exclaimed with all the excitement of a boy who has discovered something wonderfully disgusting – which he had. "They think they might be able to make a little person!"

"Brother and I were wondering if you could get us a meeting with the leader of the project."

Mustang smiled, more to distract himself from the nausea the idea of a ball of teeth and hair in a test tube gave him than out of actual pleasure.

"Well… I don't think that'd be too difficult. I'll see what I can do."

Edward jumped in the air with an exultant whoop.

Roy studied his major. His face was a rich pink and his hair held a healthy gleam. His eyes glinted with youthful energy bursting to be used. He seemed stronger, brighter, _taller_ than the last time Mustang had seen him.

He looked like he was happy.

He looked like Fullmetal.

When Hawkeye returned from her coffee break, she found Roy smiling to himself alone in his office.

"Did something favorable happen while I was gone, sir?"

Roy glanced out the window at a speck of red zigzagging down the street followed by a hapless blob of gray.

"Yes, lieutenant. I think something did."

* * *

**I got the idea for this story while I was eating eggs and bacon at IHOP with my fraternity at one in the morning. **

**But more importantly, this story is based on spring-time of 2012, which was the time in my life where I had planned and scheduled my suicide. **

**I wrote this story for the sake of angst, but I also wrote it because I want people to intimately know the signs and psychology of suicide. A person who is suicidal is mentally ill. They truly believe, or at least I did, that they are doing their loved ones a favor by killing themselves. Yelling at them won't help because they already hate themselves and trying to appeal to their love for their family and friends won't help because they believe that what they're planning on doing is for the good of their loved ones. **

**But the truth is, everyone is awful, and they are especially awful to those they love. But their friends and family still love them despite their awfulness because they're _them_. You're _you _and they don't care what's good for them, what they want is _you_. **

**That was sad. **

**Now I'm sad. **

**I'm going to listen to Starset now. **

**THE NEW ALBUM IS COMING OUT ON FRIDAY AND I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGEEEEEEEEEERRRRRR!**


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